Page 28 of The Woman in the Warehouse

“I told you!” Keith said, nodding, happy enough to turn back to his computer setup. “Alright. So. The Czech guys are ghosts.”

“What do you mean they’re ghosts?” Saylor asked, quickly dropping two of her rolls into my bowl right before Keith whipped back around. “They own a house. Or rent it at least. Where’s the paperwork for that?”

“That’s the thing,” Keith said, shrugging. “They don’t own or rent it. Someone named…” he said, turning back to the computer to click around, “Antal Kovacs owns it. As far as I can tell, he has dual citizenship and is currently in Hungary visiting his new niece. Cute, right?” he asked, waving at his screen where he had Antal’s social media up.”

“Wait, so are they subletting?” Saylor asked.

“From what I can tell, no.”

“They’re… squatting?” she asked, brows pinched.

“Seems like it. Best guess is they’ve watched this Antal guy and know that when he goes home to Hungary, he’s usually there a month or two. Figured they could use his place in the interim. Fucked up, right? Or maybe smart. You know how people get squatters rights. Hard to make ‘em move once they’re in.”

“With the amount of weapons they are storing there, they don’t need to get the law involved,” Saylor grumbled to herself.

“So, there’s no trace of these guys before this?”

“I didn’t say that,” Keith said. “From what I can tell, these guys are an offshoot of a much more established crew from Staten Island. But I don’t think they’re connected anymore.”

“Staten Island, huh?” I asked, choking down the last of the rolls.

“What are you thinking?” Saylor asked.

“That the Morelli Family runs Staten Island. If anyone would have information on them, it’s that crew. The original crew has to pay a kick-up to the Family if they want to operate there.”

“So we talk to them,” Saylor said, nodding, glad to have a next move. While I considered how much I liked the sound of her saying we.

“This is exciting,” Keith said, smiling as he glanced between us. “Like a movie.”

“Except it’s real life,” Saylor reminded him.

“Which only makes it cooler,” Keith said. “Can I come with you?”

“This isn’t a ride-along,” Saylor said, shaking her head at him.

“Well… can you come and tell me what they had to say at least?”

“Sure, kid,” I agreed, nodding, getting a sideways look from Saylor that I ignored. “Thanks for your help. But we gotta go and let out the dog before she goes on the floor,” I told him, having no idea if that was true, but feeling like it was the only way out of this place.

“Oh, right right. Yeah. Get the baby name book,” he said, nodding emphatically at Saylor.

“Will do,” she agreed. “Thanks for the rolls, Keith.”

“Anytime. Literally, any time,” he said, beaming at her as I held the door open for Saylor.

“I’ll send the payment in a bit,” she said before I closed the door behind her. “Blech,” she said as soon as we were outside, rubbing her tongue against the roof of her mouth like it could get rid of the taste of the rolls. “God, that was so gross,” she said, ducking into the bodega Keith lived above, making her way to the coffee, and pouring a large cup of black coffee, then taking a long hot swig to clear her tastebuds off as I made up my own with their prepared fall blend of maple pecan coffee, then adding some cream and sugar.

“Yeah, they weren’t pleasant,” I agreed.

“Did you see him enjoying them? Freak,” she said as we made our way to the counter. She was reaching for her wallet as I passed a bill over her shoulder. “Right,” she said, rolling her eyes, but there was something soft around her lips, “you have to pay for everything,” she said as she walked to the door. “I know he’s a little… obnoxious,” she said when we were on the street again.

“Nah. I think he’s just lonely. And he’s kind of imprinted on you,” I said.

“Like a goose?” she asked, dangerously close to laughing.

“You got the personality of one,” I teased. “One chased my sister around Central Park and bit her in the ass when we were kids.”

That got a laugh out of her.

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